


Speak Now

by angelkat



Series: [collection] Rival Argentica (2014-2018) [5]
Category: The 39 Clues - Various Authors
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Gen, Parody, Romance, inspired by Taylor Swift's Speak Now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkat/pseuds/angelkat
Summary: "If anyone objects to this wedding," said the old preacher finally to his listeners, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."...Taking a deep, shaky breath, she raised her shaking hands to the doors of the Sistine Chapel, tentatively at first. After another intake of breath, she pushed them open, using the last of her gathered courage, and stomped down the red carpeted aisle like she owned it, shouting—/reposted Dec 15, 2019. not edited
Relationships: Amy Cahill/Ian Kabra, Ian Kabra/Cara Pierce
Series: [collection] Rival Argentica (2014-2018) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570921
Kudos: 1





	Speak Now

_Rome, Italy_

Amy Cahill heard the faint sound of the bells, and she panicked.

She took a pause from her frantic driving and looked at her watch set to the standard Italian time. 9:51 am. Okay. Alright then. The wedding is supposed to start at ten, but a time frame of nine minutes should be more than enough.

She could get there. She could get there in time.

When she took her eyes back on the road, she suddenly realized that she had to swerve her car to the right. And she did, sharply, narrowly missing a madly squealing truck. She gained horrified stares from the people in the bazaar which was beside the road, and a police car was trailing her soon after, with the chief shouting unintelligible words of rapid Italian at her.

" _Dovete essere arrestato! Ritorno, ritorno!"_ he was saying, with none of the words Amy could understand.

Amy frantically stomped onto the car's accelerator and increased her speed, widening the distance between her and the police. _Great_. Now she had to lose the police force as well. This would not be a good reputation for a law student studying at Harvard University, which was exactly who she was. But she just had to get there— _now_.

She needed to talk him out of it. Plead him out of it. Make him escape this day with her, and fly straight towards…well…anywhere. The both of them could run blindly out of the church and hide from the crowd and the bride, which, she knew, would lead to a disaster. It would lead to a disaster in any case, anyway—if Ian didn't go with her, it spells defeat. If Ian went with her, the bride might tear Amy's hair off. But she realized that the only real way to find out what happens is to try.

Actually, Amy didn't have any plans about this yet. Her mind is in a clash, the thoughts in her mind warring against each other—which was why the twenty-seven year old Madrigal didn't know if doing this would be correct. Objecting to a wedding worth 100 million pounds or more was…well…objectionable. Maybe even morally wrong. But she didn't have time to think about it anymore, and she had to act if she wanted everything to change.

Last week, a Cahill reunion organized by her Great Uncle Fiske had been held in Grace's manor. It was then when Ian privately announced to his cousins that he and Cara were going to get married. Cara invited every one of them to go to Italy to help for preparations the day before their wedding, and all her other cousins happily agreed.

Amy felt like she wanted to be sick, but she couldn't say that in front of Ian and Cara, could she? She had never seen Ian so happy, and after everything that the Cahills had been through, Amy thought that she had to give the Lucian a break. So she discreetly dismissed herself from the party and politely told them that she wouldn't be available for the wedding, because she'd be having a series of exams about maritime law at that said day.

Besides, it was true. Ian probably understood it, because he just nodded, with an unreadable glint of something in his amber eyes. It was probably disappointment, because she would be the only Cahill who would be absent from his and his bride's once-in-a-lifetime event.

But now she was here, in a country where she was totally a stranger, being chased by the Italian police force, abandoning one of this year's major law examinations, instead of perfecting her oh-so important exam that she had painstakingly prepared for after two heavy months. And now everything she'd reviewed and memorized will go down the drain. She knew she would flunk, and her grades would plummet down to the bottom of the ocean, but, well, who cares?

_Who cares?_

She shook her head. No time for ridiculous thoughts. Back to the world of reality, her car was speeding towards her destination. She could see it now. It's the pristine Sistine Chapel, where the Kabra-Pierce wedding would be held. If she was in her encyclopedia mode, she would be rambling about its arty history and Michelangelo and Renaissance and whatnot. But she was not in her encyclopedia mode, and she was focused on one thing and one thing only:

Get.

To.

The church's…

…door.

_Now._

She could hear the police's ear-splitting siren, mixed blue and red lights flashing from behind her. She literally flew, the ferocious wind from her open window splashing wildly on her face. She bit her lip, holding the steering wheel tightly with both of her hands. Then she swung her vehicle over the concrete roadway and onto the grass, towards the church, her car bumping against the lush ground.

She was going seven hundred thousand miles an hour, towards one of the church's side doors. For all she was worth, she frantically pulled on the brakes when she got near enough and her body was involuntarily thrust forward.

A screaming Egyptian Mau was also thrown frontwards during the process.

Oh.

_Right._

Saladin had been at the backseat all the time, and Amy had forgotten all about him. Poor cat.

"Mrrrrrrrrpp!" he meowed dizzily, weakly getting up from the car floor.

Amy could only manage a bite on her lip. "Sorry…" She reached down to pat him on the head, which Saladin considered an act of Amy's repentance for her wrongdoing of mistreating a princely cat by placing him in the backseat for one crazy ride. He responded by licking Amy's hand in an act of forgiveness.

"Yeah…" Amy said, smiling. "I told you to go with Dan yesterday for the wedding preparations, but I guess you didn't want to see Ian?"

"… _mrrp_ …"

Amy smiled a little, panting from her extreme little ride. Last night when she was in her room in one of the dormitories that Harvard offered, she was deep in thought about what she had to do. Confusion and chaos reigned in her brain, and, also, with her nosey roommate snooping around in her business, she couldn't get some good night sleep, the reason for her not-so-humanlike face she currently possessed right now.

But all those thinking last night made her realize something. She realized that the friendship she had with Ian all these years is not just a mere, simple friendship. It was…something more.

What about Jake? Well, he and Amy had broken up a few years ago, when Amy decided that she would study law. Unfortunately, Jake wanted her to take archaeology instead. This disagreement started out as a little argument, when it grew into a fight that ripped off the fabric of their relationship into shreds. But they ended their relationship peacefully as the two departed on their own journeys. At least they were still friends.

"Okay, Sal," Amy said to the cat, face turning gravely serious. "I'll leave you here."

Saladin didn't seem to care as Amy hurriedly got out of the car and shut the door. As she ran, she heard the sounds of the bells which loudly rang out all over the place. Bright sunshine poured out from the clear, cloudless blue sky, with a flock of birds twittering in flight. It would've been a nice day for a marriage ceremony to happen, but, the problem is, the couple getting married is NOT supposed to get married.

Yes, Amy is not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. She had always been the peaceful type, one that would settle things quietly and calmly. AND, also, although she was not a marriage counselor, she was three hundred percent sure that Ian is just not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl.

Amy just didn't know where it had all gotten wrong. She knew that in all these years, Ian had this open liking for her which she just ignored and threw in the trash. Ian obviously loved her. A lot. But Amy took this for granted, often being in denial and hurting his feelings by being with Jake. And now that Ian finally had a new girl to love, Amy realized how big her mistakes have been, and that she had this burning fire for Ian that she'd never known she had.

The only missing thing is to bring Ian back to her.

She knew that it wouldn't be easy, and that she would only be looked upon by the Lucian as a rat who wore a ponytail because of the so many times she'd broken his heart. She'd look like a total beggar in front of all, but she surprised herself by not caring at all. She already weighed the consequences of stopping this marriage, and she decided that doing this was worth it, no matter what the result would be.

She immediately sneaked up inside the church, almost hitting a running little girl if Amy didn't take a frantic step back. To avoid any more attention, Amy decided to hide behind a big curtain to avoid the flower girls and boys running around in circles, and the adults in elegant suits and gowns talking distractedly to each other.

When she knew no one noticed her sudden arrival, she peeked from behind the curtain, making sure her full body was not in sight. Then she gasped at what she saw.

Paintings from the Renaissance world by Michelangelo's hands himself. A majestic altar of sparkling gold and jewels. The seats made of shining, polished mahogany which looked too sparkly to be true, each one probably amounting to five hundred thousand dollars. Everything decorated in expensive purple laces and violets. Lush, purple flower arrangements of a wide variety, too rare and beautiful and expensive for Amy to even look at. The floor that Amy found indescribable. The women walking around wearing dazzling deep purple dresses sweeping against the floor, when what Amy only had in her wardrobe was T-shirts and jeans and her gray school uniforms.

Too dull. Amy was too dull to even be in this room. And she would be easily recognized as an outsider when they see her wearing a tight navy blue skirt that reached an inch above her knees, her black doll shoes, and her navy-blue long-sleeved suit, with a ponytail tied around her disastrous hair. This was her daily school uniform, only without her identification card hanging around her neck, which she'd left in the car.

She stopped admiring the Sistine Chapel. This day would've been great if she didn't have to miss her exams, or make a fool of herself in front of Ian or probably everybody, but she needed to work. As her eyes strained through the chatting crowd, she was able to spot Hamilton Holt and Jonah Wizard in admirable tuxedoes poking on each other, Nellie Gomez and Sammy laughing as they drank some orange juice which was being passed around by the butler Bickerduff, Ned and Ted Starling quietly talking, and Reagan Holt wrestling Dan Cahill, Amy's brother, probably for some boorish joke he made about her as Madison, Reagan's twin, tried to break them up. But there was no Ian.

She did see some of Ian's friends that he had introduced to her some time ago, and Cara's little family all dressed with some pastel-colored gems and accessories hanging on their necks. But she didn't see who she wanted to see.

As she tried to step out of her hiding place, a pair of voice rang from behind her, and she immediately hid back. When Amy peeked, she saw Sinead Starling and Cara Pierce talking to each other.

"Oh, I see," Cara was saying, sipping delicately on her orange juice. Her purple balloon dress was long, and violet flowers were decorated on her hair, making her look like a real princess. Amy felt that a bookworm like her shouldn't even be breathing the same air as Cara was. "So that's why Amy couldn't make it here today?"

"Yeah. She'd been so busy preparing for exams; I couldn't even find a way to talk to her," Sinead, who wore a simple sparkling dress, nodded, after finishing half of her cup of cold orange.

As Amy observed the two of them walk away, she found it strange why Sinead and Cara wore the almost-same dresses, with Cara's purple dress being only a little bit bulgier and glitterier than Sinead's. Anyone would wonder if Cara was even the bride—anyone would think that the bride-to-be would have to wear something that spells 'wow', and not just a dress supposed to be only for the bridesmaid, because, well, this was a wedding ceremony in the SISTINE CHAPEL, for crying out loud.

The bride had to wear something more majestic than this, something that matched the splendor of this wedding ceremony itself. Cara was wearing something too… _simple_. But Amy always knew that Cara hated gowns, so basically that's a topic to be easily dismissed.

She saw Sinead and Cara being greeted by someone else—Cara's mother, Debi-Ann Pierce.

"Cara, dear!" the mother said, waving a handkerchief. As Amy saw Debi-Ann's gown, she thought, _Wow. Debi-Ann looks a lot more like the bride with what she's wearing_. Debi-Ann's dress certainly was more fabulous than Cara's if Cara's dress didn't already look like The World's Most Beautiful Gown That a Pathetic Human Being, Like Amy Cahill, Could Possibly Wear. "Cara!" Debi-Ann shouted for the second time. Sinead said something to Cara, and the Starling went away as Cara approached her mother with a sour look on her face.

"What is it, mother?" Cara said, bored.

"Look at your dress!" the mother exclaimed, horrified, pointing at the orange spot on her daughter's dress. "It's dirtied by orange juice!"

"Yes, mom, I'll finish my drink first—"

"I know you hate dresses, Cara," her mom said, grabbing Cara's arm to make her change her dress in the dressing room. "But you don't have to waste this! Thank goodness we bought a replacement…"

Amy cheered happily on the inside. If Cara was going to have to redress, then there was more time to find and talk to Ian.

Amy stepped out of her hiding place, able to finally breathe air. When she started to run, she bumped into someone she least expected to bump into.

Vikram Kabra.

"Oof!" the two of them said, slamming into each other.

Yikes. Of all the scary people on this scary world, why, oh, WHY did she have to meet Ian's scary father?

Amy took a step back, a horrified expression on her face as she bit her lip. She watched Vikram as he held his head tight in slight pain as he quickly recovered. Vikram looked at Amy, outraged.

Amy bit her lip some more, and scratched her head clumsily. "Oh. Um. Good morning…Mr. Kabra."

Yes, Vikram has returned to the family again. Ian's father, Vikram, had apologized for all he did to his son and for betraying the whole Kabra family a few years ago. It was hard for his son to even look at his father at the time. It took a whole long year of begging Ian to forgive his father already, and when Ian did, the two Kabras had their relationship bonded again with trust and sincerity. It took a long time, hard work, and patience for Vikram to bring Ian's trust back to him again, and because of that, the younger Lucian even looked like he began to love his father again.

Vikram sighed a deep sigh, as if he'd been controlling his anger from bursting out. "I mustn't get angry on this beautiful day…" he muttered instead, managing a forced, twisted smile. "I suppose you are one of the servants in this church?"

 _Is that how I really look like?_ Amy thought. She guessed she wasn't recognized by Vikram in her smashed hairdo, wrinkled clothes, and distorted, tired face. It's the life of a student-slash-wedding-stopper. If you compare her to Vikram, she'd look like a filthy rag beside elegant laces. Vikram looked just like his son, Ian—you'd even mistake his voice to be Ian's because of the great similarity, only if not for the age gap.

"Um…sorry…well, no, I'm not a servant. I'm a friend of Ia—"

"I must go immediately, then," Vikram announced, a gesture that told her that he didn't care about Amy whatsoever. But as he walked away, he paused, and turned to look at her. "But you know, woman, you look a bit familiar. Are you sure we haven't met before?"

 _Like, what was the point of saying the truth?_ Vikram wouldn't recognize her, anyway. "No, sir, never mind."

Amy kept her head low as she walked away, wanting no one to notice her. But as she raised her eyes she saw Ian.

Ian. There he is. She found him, all that easily.

Amy's heart beat faster, a bright smile lightening up her face like the sun. She wanted to go run and hug him, tell him all what she wanted to tell him. But she couldn't do that—she'd gain unwanted attention, so she had to approach him slowly and calmly. She took a deep breath, and started walking timidly towards him, very slowly at first, as if nothing unusual was happening. Ian didn't seem to see her, as he was just standing there, his back partly turned towards her, his face looking out at a distance.

Black sleeves covered his arms, and his trousers flowed down to his legs in an elegant softness. He was standing blankly, his amber eyes turgid and darkly heavy. His amber eyes that, so long ago, had captivated her in a dream where she never wanted to wake up from. Never did she feel this kind of giddiness, the urge to touch his hand and hear his voice, that annoying lovely little feeling of being called by her old, sweet and petty nickname, 'love'.

Yes, yes. Every girl is just out of character when she is floating in a daydream while looking at her princely first love.

But then, Amy's senses suddenly perked up. Her instincts forced her to look at the side, and she did, seeing a man about her age approaching Ian. _Oh no_. She had to get to Ian first before anyone else does, without anyone around hearing their conversation. So she walked faster, trying to outrun her rival. But then, someone suddenly tapped on her shoulder.

When she whirled around, she saw someone she never knew from before—a middle-aged nun.

"Madam, I been search for you everywhere," the nun said in broken English, her voice strongly tinted with an Italian accent. _Huh?_ Amy thought. _Do I know this woman?_ "Someone look for you outside, they extremely want talk to you."

 _They?_ Who could be possibly searching for her here in the middle of Italy? "Um…no, tell them they must be looking for another girl," Amy dismissively replied, and tried to walk away; when the nun grabbed her on the arm to stop her. Amy tried to struggle, but found the nun surprisingly strong.

"Little girl," the nun said in a stern voice. "For what you do, you deserve punish."

 _What is she talking about?_ Amy thought. But when she looked at Ian, he was already walking away from her as he talked to his friend. Rats. She guessed she would just have to talk to him a little later, when she got rid of this stupid interruption. To the nun, she said, "But I have some other business to do, ma'am—"

"You be punish if you disobey me," the woman insisted, pulling on her arm, which Amy found quite annoying. "Go outside—and see the men for yourself."

_Men?_

Men were looking for her? But who?

Amy went outside, obliging to the nun grudgingly. Then she was suddenly struck by the bright sunlight and her feet stepped onto the fluffy green grass. It took time for her eyes to adjust at the bright light, but when she did, she saw that the annoying little lady was right.

Men. Big, muscle-bound men. Men, who, Amy observed, were not looking very happy.

Only, the nun forgot to mention that they were the police.

" _There she is!"_ one of the men said in Italian. He ran and grabbed her arm, but Amy was too stunned to speak and move.

"H-how did you find me?" she stuttered out. Then, suddenly, when she heard loud wedding bells officially starting the marriage ceremony, she felt panic rise up in her blood.

No.

Nononononononononono.

_Why did this have to happen now?!_

She couldn't understand why fate kept playing on her. She had to escape this police, or she would be too late.

The problem was, these brawny men didn't look like they wanted to have a nice chat with her right now.

"Speak Italiano?" one of them asked.

Amy wanted to run right now. But she was held tightly in place by one of them.

"No, English!" she shrieked, trying to struggle.

The chief police, who seemed to be pure Italian, turned to one of his friends and talked to him. Then that friend of his turned to Amy, saying, "We are the Italian police force." He held out a badge. "And you are under arrest for driving recklessly. You will come to us in prison." Then they started walking her to their car.

"But—but how did you know me?" she said, hopeless, although she knew it was pointless asking now. As she looked behind, she saw the priest preparing for the ceremony, and the guests now all neatly standing up, quietly, as they listened to what the minister was saying. The whole church was quiet, not anymore looking like a marketplace as it had earlier.

"We find your car and take your ID," the guy holding on to her explained. "We show it to nun and told her to look for you and bring you, you nasty criminal, to us, brilliant police."

_Stupid nun._

Amy was about to say something else when her ears were fed to the horrible sound of Richard Wagner's _Here Comes the Bride._ It was now playing in a large organ that Amy presumed could be heard in a one-mile radius. It was so loud, ringing out in the entire area, that Amy felt her knees and everything in her weaken. _Yes_. Yes, it was _that_ event of the wedding ceremony, when the bride-to-be walks to the altar.

The _Death March_.

 _The_ Death March.

No.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

This just couldn't!

She had no choice now but to beg—her fate, her whole life, might even depend on it.

"Please, mister chief," she said, in a pleading voice she had trained herself for, after all those Madrigal seminars she'd had. "I just had to go to the wedding ceremony quickly or I will be late, that's why I was driving so fast—"

"Just explain everything in jail," the one who can speak proper English said. "We don't accept explanations outside the penal complex."

Amy looked hopelessly behind her, and saw the hidden face of the bride smiling as she walked down the red-carpet-aisle to the altar like a glamorous pageant queen. She observed that Cara's new dress is now more stunning than before—grander, bulgier, more sparkly, more elegant, peppered with more decorations, and more bride-like. In fact, she didn't recognize her as Cara anymore. But she had no time thinking about that.

Biting her lip, she was about to give up. But something crossed her mind, flashing like a light bulb like a brilliant idea.

Madrigal.

That one word was enough to send adrenaline pulsing in her veins. Training. _Of course_. Amy could fight these baddies off, just like she did in training. And she was a Madrigal, purely in blood and soul, and she could finish these four guys off with her two hands.

Well, maybe not so much as 'finish them off'. They had fists too big that could be smashed onto her skull, and she wouldn't want that to happen—for now, her goal would be to distract them so she could run away now. As her guy held on to her, they walked to the police car, where Amy quietly waited for her chance. She closed her eyes as she took a silent breath of air. Then, clenching her fists, she suddenly punched the nose of the guy holding her, making him succumb to the ground in sudden pain.

Oops. Amy didn't want to make the punch too hard.

The other three dudes looked utterly shocked, suddenly veering their heads to look at the fallen guard, who held his nose painfully with his one hand. When the guard revealed his hand, the others gasped when they saw deep red blood.

"No," the chief police muttered, and turned to look at their captured criminal. But the lawbreaker was no longer in her previous place—she was running, running away from them.

Running, they noticed, towards the Sistine Chapel, as if desperately. The chief barked out a command, and his two unhurt henchmen ran to get to the girl—and when the Italian police ran, they were as quick as a fox on a pursuit of its prey.

Meanwhile, Amy looked back to see the three men scampering after her, and her legs pumped madly, her lungs beginning to heave heavily. She hadn't run or trained anything in a long time, which could explain her lousy hit on one of those guys' nose. If it wasn't for the element of surprise, she might not even be running away from these guys right now.

Amy was now only a few feet now from the chaplain's main, giant front doors, which was closed so Amy couldn't see anything inside. She didn't have time to admire the beautiful carving on the doors, the splendor of the marriage ceremony she was about to barge into. But, as if everything wasn't bad enough, her stomach twisted into a horrible little knot when the voice of the priest echoed throughout the place, as if punishing Amy for something she didn't do.

"Do you, beautiful bride," the preacher started, in a voice so fragile and weak that he sounded like he was probably a hundred-year-old man, "accept this handsome man standing beside you as your loving and lawfully wedded husband?"

Amy paled, clenching her fists that her knuckles turned white and cold as snow. She heard the bride say, in the most gentle and sincere voice she had ever heard, "Yes, I do."

The Italian police were far behind her, scuttling towards her, shouting things like, _"Ritorno!"_ "Stop, _donna_!" "You come back here!"

"Then do you, handsome groom," the priest proceeded, "accept this beautiful bride standing beside you as your loving and lawfully wedded wife?"

Tears rolled down Amy's eyes.

_Please._

_Don't say yes._

_Run away now._

_Run away with me, Ian._

But her hopes were crushed when she heard the groom's deep voice saying, "I do."

Amy's heart stopped. Her green eyes were wide, shocked and too awful for words, sparkling as a shine of tears shrouded them. She was now a few meters from the chapel's door, and her throat swelled up with a lump that formed in it. But she continued to run, forcing her weakening legs to move. A breeze blew by, making her hair flow in the wind.

"If anyone objects to this wedding," said the old preacher finally to his listeners, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was a silence.

Amy clenched her fists in anger, not knowing what else she could do.

But it was her last chance.

This was her last chance, and if she let this one last chance pass, everything would be…

No. She's taking it. She's taking this chance. She was going to stop this marriage, no matter what the result may be.

And she's doing it now.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she raised her shaking hands to the doors of the Sistine Chapel, tentatively at first. After another intake of breath, she pushed them open, using the last of her gathered courage, and stomped down the red carpeted aisle like she owned it, shouting—

" _I object!"_

Dan's head was the first to turn to her, and he shouted, so loud, "AMY?!"

Silence. Everyone turned to look at her in shock, as she walked down the aisle towards the altar bravely. There were gasps of surprise and shock, every pair of eyes on the crowd trained on her, horrified. But she was only looking at one person, and that one person was Ian Kabra, his back turned to her.

As Amy reached the altar, her steps echoing loudly throughout the vast chamber, she looked straight at the priest, directly into the eye. "I demand that this marriage be stopped. I am not in favor of the wife Ian is going to marry." Then she turned to Ian, her cheeks turning horribly red. "And Ian, if you're still not convinced," she said, "I…"

She gulped, hard. She never saw this coming. She put one hand to her chest, where she felt her heart beating, as fast as a raging storm, the most horrible of hurricanes clashing inside her mind.

"I…"

She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and looked to the ground. But, strangely, Amy felt something else about the beating of her heart. She dug deep, until she reached the center, where she found a calm and serene wide ocean, as if everything she was doing was normal, as if encouraging Amy to go on.

"… _I…"_

But, through all the confusions and troubles swirling on the inside, she knew, that all those would dissipate into the air when she followed the voice of her heart. The voice of her heart, telling her to do one thing.

_Speak now._

Then, she jerked her head up, crystals of tears bouncing away from her eyelashes.

"I love you!"

Seconds ticked. Ian seemed to be in shock, as he still had not turned around to face her. His back was what Amy saw, and her eyes started to go all misty from the tears that started to form.

But what happened next practically ate her soul out of her body from indeterminate shock, as the groom turned around to look at her, revealing his true identity.

 _Are…you…kidding me…_ Amy thought, her eyes as wide as saucers, no longer teary.

"Woman?!" Vikram Kabra choked out, outrageously, wanting to see who the objector was. "You? The church servant? But you…! How did… But…but…but…MAD!"

Amy had never seen Ian's father ever so tongue-tied as this until now. But she couldn't blame him. She herself found everything unbelievable too.

"But you are twenty years younger than me! Are you out of your mind? Guards! Guards!" Vikram called out, wild and furious. "Take this madwoman out of my ruined wedding—"

"Honey, calm down," said the bride, who touched Vikram's shoulder gently to soothe his nerves on fire. When Amy looked who the bride was, she felt like her eyes started popping out of their sockets.

 _Debi-Ann Pierce?!_ And _Vikram Kabra_ , for goodness' sakes, getting _remarried_ to _each other?_

_How is this happening?_

Amy was speechless. It was like a slap on the face.

"The…two of you…getting…married…" was her only manageable mutter.

Cheese and crackers. WAS SHE THE ONLY IN THIS ROOM WHO DIDN'T KNOW?!

She felt like a total embarrassment in this room, she simply wanted to melt down into a puddle, right there on the floor and evaporate into the air, never to be seen again. Basically, she was a total epic fail.

Could it be that Amy had been too drunk in jealousy when she saw Ian and Cara together in their previously-held Cahill reunion? Could it be that Amy had been too focused and jealous on thinking about Ian and Cara when they announced to their cousins that _their parents_ were going to get married, making Amy think that _Ian and Cara_ were going to get married, instead?

Could it be that she was just too stressed from her exams and studies? Or could it be that Amy had loved Ian all along?

"How am I supposed to be calm?!" Vikram raged to his bride-to-be. "And _you_ shouldn't be acting so calm either," he told Debi-Ann. "This servant girl wants to replace you, and isn't in favor of you!"

Debi-Ann just smiled, and looked at Amy. "There must be some kind of a mistake," she told her, gently. To her soon-to-be-husband, she said, "I recognize her. She's—"

"Nonsense!" Vikram continued to rage. "This girl should be sued! I'll immediately call my lawyer—"

"Please, Father," interrupted a voice, and everyone from the listening audience turned their heads to the far side of the aisle, where the mighty Ian Kabra stood. His friend whispered something to his ear, and the man discreetly disappeared in the multitude. But the Lucian had his eyes trained on his father. He stepped forward in his long, steady stride, the whole church growing as quiet as a tomb.

"This girl," he said, in that classic, silky British accent of his. "She is Amy Cahill."

There were a few gasps of shock coming from the part of the crowd who didn't recognize Amy immediately. Everybody knew that Amy Cahill was one of those mighty Madrigals who actively participated in important and dangerous missions, and seeing her totally distorted today was a shock.

"And," Ian added, calm as you please. "You have no right to talk to her that way."

Amy's face turned bright when she saw Ian, her eyes immediately filled with tears. Everything that was on her mind was wiped away, and all she cared about was Ian. She ran to him and hugged him immediately, not at all minding the fact that she was doing this in front of the public. She hugged him tight, and Ian was shocked, stiffening, when he awkwardly put a hand on her head.

Amy just cried tears of joy as she cuddled against him. "I'm so relieved you weren't getting married, Ian…"

"I would never get married if the bride isn't you, Amy." Ian just smiled, something he rarely did, stroking her head. "Did my ears hear correctly what you have just said?"

Amy nodded fiercely on his chest. "I love you, Ian."

But the drama was immediately cut off when the chapel doors burst open, and three police wearing badges of the Italian police force bustled in. The audience was stunned. Ian looked confused. Debi-Ann and Vikram gasped. The priest was oblivious.

"Is where criminal?!" the chief said in broken English.

_Vikram had had enough._

"Pray tell," he breathed low, like a dragon preparing to breathe fire out of his lungs. There were a few snickers coming from Vikram's friends. Then, he boomed, as if he wanted to tear his own hair off, " _What_ is this outrageous insanity right in front of my wonderful wedding day, Ian Kabra?! _Have you planned his all along to make me look embarrassed in front of my coworkers and Debi-Ann?_ I just knew that a wedding with Cahills in it would result in this kind of a disastrous disaster!"

Insanity, disaster, and the word 'Cahill' in one breath?

That's no biggie.

However, Ian firmly pulled Amy away from him by holding both of her shoulders. That's when he just noticed her shattered hair, clothes battered beyond measure, and her zombie-like face so stressed that it appeared as if she might break like a rubber band.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Amy?" he asked, in a voice that was concerned and seriously troubled. "Is this the stress from studying law?"

Amy just laughed. Ian didn't know the half of it.

* * *

Holding hands, Amy and Ian walked in the garden.

"How is school, by the way?" Ian suddenly asked, one hand in his trouser pocket.

Amy grumped. "The exam's all destroyed because of you, you nut."

Ian laughed warmheartedly, gently squeezing Amy's hand. "And you came all the way from the United States just to stop me from getting married. You really do love me, do you?"

There was a pause, a breeze passing by to blow their hair. The warm twilight of Rome was enchanting, and Amy felt very contented. Then she looked into Ian's amber eyes, with a soft smile on her face.

"Yes. Yes, I do."


End file.
